Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 491 Marcus' POV "It's a beautiful baby girl!" Dr. Carlisle announced, lifting a tiny little being still slick with vernix and blood, the umbilical cord attached. She was wriggling, her tiny fists clenched, her mouth wide open in a cry that filled the entire room. "A beautiful, healthy baby girl!" Tears burned in my eyes, blurring my vision. Aurora. My daughter. Our daughter. Real. Alive. Perfect. After so many months of waiting, worry, and fear, she was truly here.

The doctor placed the baby quickly on Madeline's bare chest, and Madeline immediately brought her trembling hands to that tiny body, sobbing and laughing at the same time. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with sweat, but she had never looked more beautiful. "Hi, little one," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion as she kissed the dark-haired head. "Hi, my love. My love, my love... you're here. You're finally here." I was vaguely aware of the doctor stepping closer, offering me a pair of surgical scissors, asking if I wanted to cut the cord.

I did it with shaking hands, still unable to believe this was real. That this perfect child was truly here. That I wasn't going to wake up from this moment. The nurses approached gently, explaining that they needed to take the baby to be cleaned, weighed, and checked. Reluctantly, Madeline let her go, her eyes following every movement as they carried our daughter to the small station on the other side of the room. I stayed beside Madeline, kissing her face, her hands, murmuring how much I loved her, how incredible she had been, how grateful I was for this gift she had given me.

to hold your daughter?" "Your daughter." The words echoed in my mind as I crossed the room with careful steps, as if the floor might vanish beneath me at any second. The nurse placed the tiny bundle in my arms with a warm smile. Now clean and wrapped in a soft pink blanket, she was so light, so small, so absolutely perfect that I was afraid to

fists were still clenched, her mouth making little sucking motions even with her eyes closed. "3.2 kilograms," the nurse said, jotting something down on a clipboard. "19 inches. Completely healthy and perfect." I went back to Madeline, holding our daughter with all the care in the world, as if she were made of the most fragile glass imaginable. Every step was measured, deliberate, as though

the edge of the bed, adjusting the baby in my arms so Madeline could see her clearly, so we could both admire this 1/3 small miracle. The blanket slipped away from her little face, revealing tiny, perfect features-a small upturned nose, rose -colored lips shaped like a heart, chubby cheeks begging to be kissed. She had so much hair, dark and slightly wavy, and I wondered if it would stay that way or change with time. "She's perfect," I whispered, unable to take my eyes off her, in awe of every tiny detail. "Absolutely perfect. Look at her. Look at what

Right now, she was ours-and that was all that mattered. And that was when it happened. As if she felt our intense gaze on her, as if she somehow knew she was being watched by her parents for the first time, the